...I think I just threw up in my mouth...
HOWEVER... it does remind me of a little story... sit back, relax... and you might not want to be eating anything while you read this story... you may throw up in your mouth too...
Okay... sooooo I was THAT GIRL. My friends got asked out on lots and lots of dates and I was the "can't get her own date tag along friend" that got set up with the "pockmark faced, garlic breath, stuck in the 1980's bomber jacket (and possibly pedifile) " friend that also can't get a date roomate. It's okay, I embraced it. I got a lot of good ammo on my dear friends this way. When I said jump they said how high... or I guess that's how it's supposed to work right?
Anyway, my friend... lets call her Francis... meets "Lance the Studmuffin". Actually I think both Lance the Studmuffin and his lovely friend wore bomber jackets so maybe they were both pedifiles. Beside the point.
He's cute, charming aaaannnd, ready for the icing on the cake...
HE DRIVES A MOTORCYCLE (and wears a 1980's bomber jacket)
Tell me, who can resist a guy who drives a motorcycle. Not Francis.
"Oh, he's just dreamy...! I have an idea, why don't you go out with his friend [we'll call him Larry, Larry sounds like an appropriately creepy name right?] then we could double and I can have the best of both worlds: my man and my BFF! Wouldn't it be fun if we all got married (as in each individual couple, not all 4 of us, sorry I don't roll that way...)
Okay, I knew better. Up to this point, I've never had a good experience with a blind date (although later on... I did meat my Dream Guy and fall madly happily in love and live happily ever after thanks to a blind date gone good). BUUUUT I love my friend, I don't want to burst her little bubble full of puppies, rainbows and Prince Charmings riding off into the sunset. Plus she informs me that he rides a motorcycle too (although conveniently leaves out the 1980's bomber jacket and pedifile part) so I figure it can't be THAT bad right?!!! What rebelious teenager struggling to find her own identity can resist a blind date with a rebel on a motorcycle? Not me. The beauty of being a girl on a blind date is free dinner and a movie and an adrenaline pumping, hair destroying night on a motorcycle. Can't beat that right, even if the guy is a total twit (and possible pedifile).
So, we meet at the guys house. (we couldn't have two guys show up to pick us up at OUR houses on motorcycls. The night would be over before it began!)
Lance 'n Larry (ooohhh, that's sounding creepy already) come strutting out of the house. Wait... did I say Lance AND Larry?! Nooooo I meant just Lance. Larry was still GETTING READY. You see he takes longer to get ready than Tammy Faye.
He literally would pluck his eyebrows every day and would sit in front of the mirror with scissors evening out every single hair on top of his head. Welllll.... at least he wants to impress me riiiight??? hmmm....
There was a whole brigade of us going out on motorcycles for the night. Well, that's a plus... I've always wanted to be part of a motorcycle gang. And where does a Hog Posse go to impress their lady friends? Where else... VILLAGE INN... I kid you not. We really went to Village Inn. Now I'm not a snob, I'll eat wherever... I just thought it was pretty apprpriate....that's all I'm saying...
Okay, so we enter the restaurant and Larry turns to Lance the Studmuffin and stays, "Dude, I don't have any money... I'm going to go find an ATM, I'll be right back. And he turns and struts off. I looked at Lance the Studmuffin, back at Larry then back at Lance the Studmuffin. He shrugs his shoulders and says, "I've always wanted to have two dates! "
We sit down to dinner. Still no Larry. I order something small and budget friendly (although seriously eyeing that MOONS OVER MIHAMMY as I drench my shirt in drool.) Don't want to break the bank for Larry you know. Anyway, still no Larry. Our Tammy Faye look-alike waitress (appropriate don't you think.. if I can't have my date, why not his lookalike as my waitress?) brings us our dinner and asks with sickening pitty in her eyes, "Can I get you anything else hon?" Still no Larry. I devour my piece of toast and icewater and start on Francis' dinner. Still no Larry. The check comes. Still no Larry. Ummmm... see where this was going. I get up to head toward the kitchen to start washing dishes to pay for my morsel of food when Lance the Studmuffin proves what a Studmuffin he is. he pays for my meal... and asks if I can help cover the tip.... Still no Larry...
Luckily, one of the Chain Gang drove a car so he drives me back to the bachelor pad (I thought about having him take me home, but decided wisely against it... there are a lot of little kids that live on my street). We go inside "just for a minute" and find Larry sitting on the couch with the stinkiest, nastiest Mount Everest sized mountain of eggs you've ever singed your nose hair on. Did I mention it was drenched in ketchup? And that there was a little piece of egg hanging from the tip of his nose? (Maybe not that last part, but that was the only thing that could have POSSIBLY made me any sicker than I already was)... until.... he pats the couch next to me, winks at me and tells me to have a seat. I sat down on the bean bag chair on the other side of the room.
He calls to me, "sorry, I didn't have any money" I ignore him, not because I am mad at him for ditching me, but just HOPING that if I pretend he isn't there he will dissappear... or turn into Brad Pitt or anyone else in the world that doesn't make me want to blow chunks.
Now, you may be saying to yourself:
A. This is the worst date story EVER
B. Wow, this girl must be really really ugly
C. This can't possibly get any worse....
Well, the first two are subjective (and B is a retorical question thank you very much!) But if you guessed C... you are WRONG. Yes, sadly this story gets MUCH WORSE.
Everyone else gets cozy with their mates on the couch as I am curled up in a fetal position on the bean bag watching who knows what... just trying to block out my surroundings. I am doing a pretty good job zoning out and picturing my happy place (you know the one: gobs of luscious, gooey chocolate icecream dripping from my lips onto a crisp white shirt) when all of the sudden I smell the putrid odor of rancid eggs breathing down my neck and melting my skin like acid rain.
UUUUUGGGGGHHHH. TELL ME he is not seriously trying to spoon me?!!!! AAAHHHH (now is the point where you should imagine the sound effects from the shower scene of Hitchcocks Psyco). Yes... he was trying to spoon me. In fact... he was so close it was more of a spork because he was trying to intertwine his legs with mine. I curled up into myself even tighter and pretended to be asleep... for the ENTIRE 2 HOURS OF THE MOVIE.
Somebody kill me...
How can a 2 hour movie go on for 2 years....?
The movie ended and I LEPT to my feet. I mean, we're talking speed of light... bum to feet in .0003 seconds. I said to Francis, "It's almost curfew, better get going". Larry says, "Wait... do you have to go? Let me get your number." That was the first and only time I ever had the guts to say, "Um... that's okay" and walked out of the house.
Ewe... I think I need to take a shower. I feel CRUSTY just thinking of that story.
I don't think I'll ever eat scrambled eggs again!
What's YOUR worst date experience (try to top me I dare you!)
jps... I must add Lance the Studmuffin really was very cute, my friends never dated losers... they just dated studmuffins with loser friends....... that wanted to date me...
